Independence

Alas, this is not my photograph, as my camera has recently taken ill. It still functions, but only barely, and I fear it may soon be kinder to put it out of its misery then to feign hope of its usefulness. My thanks then, go to Google Image and the anonymous provider of this beautiful portrayal of the type of fireworks I saw last night. They were the most magnificent pyrotechnics I have ever seen in my life and I am to happy to say that I have found yet another use for applied chemistry. They exploded in a cacophony of light and sound, brilliant colors dancing against a backdrop of the Washington monument. They became a part of my racing heart beat as they rumbled through the stone beneath me. As I sat there on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and stared into the warm black sky, surrounded by new friends and countless strangers, I was struck by the enormity of it all. The sheer size of the crowds and the buildings, of this city, of the anticipation that hung in the air making it thick and hard to breath. The hopes and dreams and pride of a populous that bounced and ricocheted in quiet whispers off the walls inside which sat the likeness of one of the great men of our history. I stood under his wise gaze with Anna Maria, who is visiting from Brazil, and I wondered what it meant to her. I wondered as well what it meant to me. I tried to remember the only other time I had seen this stone visage but was left with fleeting memories of hot summer sun and giggling eighth grade crushes. And as I stood there feeling small amongst the enormity of the crowd and the buildings and the occasion itself, I became aware of something. How could I ever go home? I was a part of something, part of a glorious country, part of this undulating throng of hopeful onlookers, all seeking to embody the American Dream. They each do it in their own way, which most commonly seems to be taking full advantage of the comforts and conveniences that we here take so often for granted. Being ever the over achieving individual, I want to do something more.

And it was on this Independence Day that I was struck by my own independence. Not just the independence I recently exercised by moving away from home but the independence to fulfill my dream regardless of others' judgment. The independence to go where I need to and do what I deem necessary. I have been graced with the marvelous independence of youth. Since before I can remember I have worked towards the ideal of changing the world. I now begin to wonder if I have pacified myself with the first small step. Have I become so complacent knowing that I have started the journey that I have stopped moving altogether? I had told myself that I could slow down and take a break now that I had graduated, found a new internship to pour myself into. But suddenly that urge fills me again, the urge that there is more to be done and every second I let slip by means the loss of something else precious. I know I cannot save everything, cannot save the world, cannot change the minds of those who don't wish to see. But I can try. I must try. Like the flash bang of fireworks in the air, everything is illuminated in my mind for an instant then it fades and the smoke drifts on the wind, the ashes fall to the earth, muddying the waters of the reflecting pool. But in its place is a renewed passion, refueled motivation that fills me with enthusiasm. The crowd murmurs their appreciation and fills the night air with applause as the finale echoes and then is quiet.

Now I sit in my room in a house that is not mine filled with people that I do not know and I write down this oath. I will keep trying. I listen to the softly falling rain that cleanses the earth and reminds me of the frustrated tears that I cried into my pillow last night at my own impotence. It is hard not to feel hopeless in the face of a global problem. How can I hope to tackle what the very forces of nature itself cannot overcome? How can I fix a problem in which I myself am guilty of participating? The carelessness of man... Sometimes I think it would be so easy to live my life without considering the repercussions of my actions. If I just waited, then it would be too late and I could just write the environment off as too far gone. To forget the weighty responsibilities and spend my days in small joys and hope that I don't find myself feeling empty and alone in the end. But I know that it is futile to ignore the panicked ache of impending loss of which I am already too well aware. I know that I may fail miserably, but at least I can say that I have tried. In my independence, there is hope.